Shaw Han looks at the Gjallarhorn with unrestrained awe. "The weapon of heroes," he whispers.

He pulls his eyes away from the gleaming barrel for a moment. "Guess that makes you the hero, huh?" he says with a grin. "I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you… of course, I think most of the Guardians I see are heroes. And I'm usually right."

"I have one last thing for you," he says, patting his pockets. "Hold it out, would you?"

You hold the Gjallarhorn steady and Shaw pulls something from a pouch on his belt: a small golden feather.

"I found this in the rubble of the old vaults after Ghaul's attack. I've been holding on to it ever since… for hope, I guess. To remind me of the strength of the Guardians. And now—"

He presses the gold feather into the winged wolf that adorns the Gjallarhorn. It fits into place with a satisfying click.

"—now I don't think I need a reminder," he says, then raises a fist into the sky. "Because the Guardians have the Gjallarhorn again!"

"Now get out there and let the galaxy know the big guns are back!"